


National Anthem

by Reminscees



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Cold War, Confessions, Diplomacy, Love, M/M, Oral, Politics, Possessive Sex, Post-World War II, minor description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3875950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reminscees/pseuds/Reminscees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You can come to me when you feel angry from now on.'</p><p>A discussion of sex and politics along with rough, hurried touches and trust, a pained possession that hurt Arthur as much as believing Alfred's beautiful lies.</p><p>Sometimes 'I love you' hurts as much as hatred, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	National Anthem

National Anthem

Moonlight cut through the windows of Alfred’s blinds.

“I heard you fought Ivan today.” Arthur said from the door, and Alfred spun from his position by his desk, standing, hand in his pocket, drink in the other.

“I did.” Alfred laughed. It sounded hollow. His glasses looked oddly in the light, a bright white reflection perched on his nose.

“Why?” Arthur asked curiously, moving closer to him.

Alfred smiled at him sharply as he set his drink down and folded his arms.

“He pissed me off,” Alfred said casually, “I was angry.”

“You can't take your anger out on others like that.” Arthur started, frowning at Alfred.

Alfred laughed coldly. “Gee, Arthur. Stop telling me that, I already-”

“You can come to me when you feel angry from now on.” Arthur stared at him.

“So I can fight you?” Alfred crossed over to Arthur. Arthur could smell the taste of alcohol on his tongue, and in the darkness, he could trace out his dark-rimmed glasses and slicked back hair, a stray piece falling into his face, “Do you want me to fight you?”

“No,” Arthur said. Alfred lifted a hand to touch his neck.

“We’d make terrible enemies.” Alfred smiled and watched Arthur frown at him as Alfred rested his hand there. It was cold from the ice of his chilled drink.

He waited.

Alfred smiled smugly at him.

_Arrogant fool._

Arthur turned his head to the side, slowly, and kissed the skin of Alfred’s wrist, dragging his teeth along the bone and nipping at the flesh. Alfred dropped his smile and stared at Arthur, breath hitching audibly.

He tangled his hair in Arthur’s hair, pulling it, hard, forcing Arthur to bare his neck, pale and as sleek as a slice of marble. Alfred leaned down to it, resting his head there for a moment before slowly, tauntingly, licking along in. Arthur hissed lowly. Alfred smiled against the skin as Arthur pushed his body closer to him, and the hand in his hair pulled harder as Arthur grinded up towards Alfred, hips fitting and aligning themselves with Alfred.

Arthur stared at Alfred as Alfred pulled his head away and looked down at Arthur, frowning.

“What did you mean with what you said?” Alfred asked seriously, “With coming to you when I’m angry?”

“It means whatever you want it to.” Arthur said calmly and raised a hand to card through Alfred’s hair, but Alfred grabbed his wrist, tightly.

“What,” Alfred leered, “You want me to hurt you? Break your nose like I broke Ivan’s?”

Arthur stared at him coldly.

“Damn pervert.” Alfred spat and twisted his hold on Arthur’s wrists, “You’d do anything for me.”

 “You’d die without me.” Alfred said harshly, and Arthur closed his eyes a little.

Alfred moved closer to him.

“You’d die for me,” Alfred smiled slowly, “You’d kill for me,” Alfred whispered, “You would.”

“Yes,” Arthur leaned forward and breathed onto Alfred’s lips.

He looked up at Alfred, barely touching his mouth.

“You love it.” Arthur kissed at the corner of Alfred’s mouth.

Alfred let his wrists go, and Arthur tangled his fingers in Alfred’s hair, nudging Alfred’s cheek awkwardly with his nose as Alfred hoisted him up onto the dark, hard-wood desk behind him, settling himself in between his legs. Arthur wrapped them around his waist as he dragged his lips across Alfred’s jaw and behind his ear, breathing heavily as Alfred ran a hand up and down his back. He pulled off Arthur’s suit jacket, then his own along with his shirt, breaking contact only briefly before running his palms along Arthur’s now bare chest, thumbing at his hip bones.

Arthur smiled smugly, eying the deep flush on Alfred’s cheek. His glasses were skew, and Arthur leaned forward to snatch them and drop them on the table behind him. Alfred unzips his trousers, moving his underwear out of the way, and Arthur could see the fluid welling up on the tip of his cock.

“Arthur,” Alfred said, and Arthur licked his lips as he jolted off the table in an elegant motion, Alfred bracing himself against it as Arthur knelt down on his knees. The carpet was rough against the fabric of his suit. Arthur pulled down Alfred’s trousers with a practiced fluidity.

He fluttered his eyes closed before he licked the head once to taste the pre-come there before he spread his fingers over Alfred’s hips and taking what he could in, lips pulled over his teeth, eyes sliding shut.

Alfred’s hand returned to his neck, hissing and grunted, loudly, his fingernails scratched against his skin. Arthur kept his eyes closed. He knew what Alfred looked like by now.

“Shit,” Alfred said, whistling through his teeth, pushing Arthur’s head further down, forcefully.

His cock hit the back of Arthur’s throat. He choked once, but it no longer fazes him. He moved his hand down to cup Alfred’s balls and urge him along.

It worked.

Mere seconds later Alfred spilled down his throat with a mix between a shout and a groan, it was rather unattractive, and Arthur stood, brushing his trousers off casually. He locked eyes with Alfred and swallowing, licking his lips.

He could see Alfred’s chest heave with exertion. He looked pleased.

Arthur frowned at him and Alfred nodded, leaning towards him to bite at Arthur’s collar bone, dragging his tongue around it. He moved, and Arthur sat on the table once more.

Arthur grabbed Alfred’s shoulders as Alfred mouthed, warm and insistent words.

Alfred pulled away and stared at him.

“I want to see you,” He repeated, arm on either side of Arthur, trapping him, “Let me see you.”

Arthur frowned at him.

“Why?” He asked.

“You’re pretty.” Alfred said sternly, “I like your face.”

Arthur laughed sharply as Alfred ran his palms up and down his waist once more before hooking his thumbs into his trousers and pulling them off along with his pants. They sounded loud as they fell.

Alfred touched Arthur’s stomach, the muscles of his abdomen jumped at the contact. The pads of his fingers felt rough on his skin.

Alfred stared at a point left of Arthur’s ear before inhaling a breath and scooping Arthur up, pushing himself down onto the floor and grabbing Arthur’s waist until he was sprawled in Alfred’s lap. The carpet burned his bare knees as Arthur leaned down to cup Alfred’s jaw and bite along his neck, down to the juncture of his shoulders, his skin sweaty and hot. Arthur bit his lips as he lowered himself to rest his head there, and Alfred felt his eyelashes tickle against his skin.

Arthur shifted forward, seeking friction as Alfred gripped his cock, no finesse and only rough, uncalculated movements, starting to move as though he wanted to bring Arthur into oblivion.

Arthur swallowed a moan, but he breathed heavily and unsteadily, desperately trying to keep quiet as Alfred raised a hand to tangle in his hair and pull, hard, forcing Arthur to draw he his head back and lean his forehead on Alfred’s own, eyes closed and biting his lip. Alfred thumbed at his slit and Arthur gasped, drawing his lips on Alfred’s, damp and breath hot. Alfred raised a hand to rest on Arthur’s cheek, so lightly it hurt and so softly is was as though Arthur were asleep and Alfred did not wish to wake him.

Arthur opened his eyes, slowly, as he thrust against Alfred’s hand, and Alfred stared at him, stared at the way his eyes seemed darker than usual and his skin lighter, stared at the freckles on his cheeks that were so light only Alfred knew where they were, stared at Arthur, Arthur, and all of _Arthur_ -

Arthur whined into his mouth, jerking forward before he came into Alfred’s closed fist with a sob-like noise.

Arthur’s eyelashes are fluttering again, and suddenly, Alfred felt as though he needed to protect that fluttering.

Arthur removed his head and sat up in Alfred’s lap, staring down at him before Alfred sat up, hands behind him as he supported his body.

Arthur grabbed either side of his face and kissed the soft skin under his jaw, and the night passed them by as Arthur bowed towards Alfred and Alfred relaxed into him, falling, always falling into Arthur and all of Arthur.

Arthur spent the night in Alfred’s bed, in his luxurious New York apartment, all shining and bright and golden. The sheets were cold.

Arthur shifted on the mattress, hips under one of Alfred’s arms, and he tilted his head to look up at Alfred. His hair was mussed and fell into his eyes and onto the pillow. Arthur sat up, slowly, and Alfred’s arm slid away before he heard Alfred stir awake beside him.

Arthur swallowed thickly as Alfred wrapped an arm around his waist and pushed him down to the mattress, pinning him down with the weight of his legs, intertwining with Arthur’s.  Arthur turned his head to face Alfred, and was surprised to find him looking back at him, a lazy smile dotting his face. His eyes seemed to glimmer, a haze of blue, and Arthur had a strange urge to run his hand through his hair.

He decided not to.

“You can stay, if you want to.” Alfred said, sitting up. Arthur swallowed thickly.

“I... I’ll visit tonight.” Arthur replied, and pried himself off of Alfred to gather his clothes and dress.

“Okay.” Alfred said as he watched Arthur shrug on his blazer, slam the door loudly, and leave.

Alfred flopped down back to the mattress and ran a hand through his hair, frowning at the empty space beside him.

:::

At the conference, Arthur’s eyes snapped open as he felt Alfred move beside him, smiling smugly, a stark contrast to Arthur’s frown. Arthur looked over his shoulder.

The other nations were watching.

Arthur ignored the stares.

Alfred reached over to him, hands brushing Arthur’s hips and waist, skin sliding against the rough fabric of Arthur’s uniform.

The meaning of the touch is obvious.

Arthur shivered, tensed.

He did not pull away.

Alfred’s fingers felt too secure and solid, too casual and too sure.

“You want to tell me what that was all about, then?” Arthur hissed afterwards.

Alfred shoved his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket, casual.

“I don't want anyone else touching you.”

Arthur scoffed.

“I’m your capitalist, European whore.” Arthur said, “Who the hell would touch me? Francis?”

“Maybe,” Alfred laughed, “Well, no one, really, unless you let them.”

Alfred leaned to whisper into his ear. “But I don't even want them to try.”

Arthur exhaled sharply. “What if I want them to touch me?” Arthur asked, sneering at him.

Alfred laughed coldly. “I’d kill you if you did that.” He reached out and held Arthur’s wrist, tightly, “But I know you would never leave me.”

Alfred heard Arthur hitch his breath as he moved his hand to burn Arthur’s skin.

“You do understand that,” Arthur swallowed, looking up at Alfred, “No one would touch you, too. It would backfire.”

Alfred turned to look directly at Arthur, smiling brightly, his eyes electric.

“I don’t want anyone to touch me,” Alfred said, “No one touches me.”

:::

“You hit Ivan again today,” Arthur said, moving towards Alfred, sitting dutifully at his desk. Alfred laughed as he observed Arthur frown down at him, eyes dark in the dim light of the room.

“Yeah,” Alfred walked to him, pushing his chair away, “I did.”

Arthur hitched his breath as he felt Alfred trail a hand at his neck, around his head and tangle his fingers in his hair.

“Are you mad?” Alfred asked.

“No,” Arthur said after a pause, “I’m not.”

Alfred hummed in agreement and leaned down to bite at Arthur’s neck, gaping in the way Arthur moved and bared himself to Alfred. Alfred smiled against his skin as he heard Arthur gasp before he swallowed the sound of a near-moan.

Alfred pressed closer to him, cock already hard and pressing into Arthur’s hips. Arthur drew out a moan, it sounded hollow and artificial as he gripped onto Alfred’s shoulders, biting his lip. Quickly, Arthur pulled off his shirt and trousers, watching Alfred do the same, quickly, before Alfred lifted his thigh, and Arthur complied, moving his body so that he was propped against the edge of the table.

Arthur shivered, dropping his head onto Alfred’s shoulder as he felt Alfred’s finger, clumsily prodding and slicked with lube, dragging itself down the centre of his ass. Arthur jerked his hips forward, breaths shaky and Alfred moaned at the noise. Arthur smiled sharply at him.

“Oh,” Alfred breathed, “God, _Arthur_.”

He pressed his finger in and Arthur felt his body shake, breathing out, slowly and roughly. He could feel Alfred laugh against his neck and cheek. Arthur bit the skin of his shoulder as he added another finger, and Arthur pressed back against them, moving his hips in a rhythm as Arthur drew his head back to smile darkly at Alfred, who added a third finger at the sight. Arthur stabbed his nails into Alfred’s shoulder, throwing his head back. Alfred draped against him, as though he was melting into Arthur’s body.

He works his fingers faster, impatient, and Arthur’s toes curl against either side of Alfred’s body, wrapping his legs around his waist, feeling the slick skin slide against his own.

Arthur exhaled heavily as he felt Alfred remove his fingers, the emptiness startling him. Alfred’s face is flushed and his glasses are removed, placed carelessly somewhere behind Arthur. His eyes were blown and an oddly dark shade of blue in the dim light, hazy around Arthur as Alfred pushed him forwards, lifting him. Arthur wound his arms around his neck, mouth dropping open as Alfred slowly moved into him, his throat was bared to Alfred, no sounds coming out, even after Alfred started moving.

Alfred’s hips snapped up, and he held Arthur’s weight almost entirely, save for the stability of the table, burning into Arthur’s lower back. Alfred bit at Arthur’s neck, groaning into him. Arthur hitched his breath, dragging him up by his hair and licked underneath his ear, lazily, down to his jaw and throat.

Alfred held him tightly, almost too tightly, his nails pricking against Arthur’s pale skin. Arthur could taste the sweat rolling off Alfred’s forehead and back, shining and glistening. Arthur followed a stray drop travel down Alfred’s face.

“Yes,” Arthur breathed as he pushed himself down towards Alfred, “Fuck,”

Alfred groaned, gritting his teeth and stared into Arthur’s eyes.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Alfred said lowly, “You’re so perfect.”

Arthur tightened his hold on Alfred’s shoulders, scratching at his back, unable to form sentences.

“Fuck,” Arthur groaned loudly, “Ah- Oh, _God_.”

“Say my name,” Alfred smiled at him, face flush, “Go on. Say it.”

“Alfred.” Arthur moaned, throwing his head back, chest slick against Alfred’s, “Oh, _Alfred_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Alfred hissed, “Fuck, you’re so-”

Arthur dropped a hand down between them and took his cock in his hand, starting to move. His toes curl and uncurl, whispering and breathing syllables and broken words.

Alfred suddenly stopped, and Arthur stared at him in disbelief, pushing his hips down.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Arthur scoffed, “ _Move_.”

Alfred mouthed wetly against Arthur’s temple, speaking lowly against his hairline.

“Do you want them to hear you?” Alfred said, “Do you want them to know whose cock you're taking?”

“What are you even-”

“They can hear you,” Alfred whispered with a dark smile, “They got eyes and ears everywhere.”

“The Commies.” Alfred clarified and groaned against Arthur, running his hands up and down his thighs, skin smooth.

He dragged his hips up slowly. Arthur’s legs pulled tight and shook at the pressure. Arthur laughed, slightly hysterical.

“Do you pull this shit on everyone you fuck?”

 “No.” Alfred said, face serious.

“I don’t care,” Arthur pushed his hips down, “I don’t fucking care. I don’t care if they hear, I want them to.”

He leaned up to Alfred’s face and whispered over his open mouth, “I want them to hear me come.”

Alfred shivered against him, and started moving once more, driving himself deep.

“ _God_ ,” Alfred pushed his hips up harder, mouth moving over Arthur’s own, breaths mingling, “Jesus Christ- _ah_ \- England- _Fuck_ , I-”

Arthur touched himself once more, hands and fingers brushing rapidly across and over Alfred’s face, as Arthur breathed over Alfred’s flush lips, shining with spit, as Arthur spoke Alfred’s name into the stale air.

Alfred moaned loudly as Arthur bowed his back, shuddering, his entire body shaking, as he came. He squeezed down on instinct and Alfred shivered against him, throat constricting.

“Fuck, Arthur,” Alfred moaned, moving harder. Arthur watched his muscles flex as the table shifted slightly from his strong thrusts.

His mouth pressed against Arthur’s temple, and in the haze of his orgasm Arthur could barely hear his whispers.

 Arthur listened to his shuddering breath over the rush of blood in his ears.

 “You’re mine,” Arthur heard Alfred say after a pause, muscles shaking, breath heavy on Arthur’s neck as he whispered, “Mine.” He bit and licked at the skin, “Mine, mine, _mine_.”

Arthur swallowed thickly and moved to stare up at the ceiling.

Alfred grinned wickedly. “You’re _mine_.”

“Don’t be a fool, Alfred.” Arthur replied.

“I tell you what to do,” Alfred smiled, “You’re mine. You’d do anything for me.”

“I’d die for you.” Alfred laughed, “I swear I would.”

“Fuck off.” Arthur spat.

“I’m serious,” Alfred shifted to look down at him, weight balanced on palms on either side of Arthur, “I’m not fucking around.”

“Is that what this is to you?” Alfred asked loudly, “A joke?”

Arthur stared coldly at him.

“I’m not fucking around,” Alfred repeated, “If you’d leave me, I’d kill you.”

“I know you would.” Arthur said, “You grace me with this knowledge ever so often.”

“Well,” Alfred laughed emptily, “It’s the truth.”

Arthur scoffed.

“Say it,” Alfred scratched at the table.

“Are you drunk?”

“Be proud of it, Arthur,” Alfred laughed, “Be proud that you’re mine.”

“Be proud,” Alfred repeated, “Like an American, a true-”

“I’m not _American_.” Arthur shifted and pushed Alfred away, “And I’m not _yours._ ”

“But you want the others to think that you are.”

“Those are two entirely different-”

“Why?” Alfred shouted, “Why, Arthur? Why can’t we be real?”

“... You know why.”

“I don’t!” Alfred pulled Arthur’s wrists towards him, “I really don’t! I don’t know why you think I do, but I don’t.”

“Let me go.” Arthur said slowly.

Alfred breathed loudly through his nose.

“Alfred,” Arthur repeated, “Let me go.”

“No.”

“ _What_?” Arthur said after a pause.

“I said no. I won’t,” Alfred replied, “Because I know what’ll happen if I do. You’ll go all weird and fucked up and run away. I don’t want that.”

“And what do you want, then?” Arthur shouted, “That I’m your fucking whore? That you could hold my hand and run into the sunset with me?”

 “I want you to be mine.” Alfred answered gravely.

“Oh, America,” Arthur laughed coldly, “You’re such a child.”

 “No!” Alfred tightened his hold on Arthur, pulling him towards him, “It’s not! I’m not fucking around.”

Arthur fixed his jaw.

“You’re England,” Alfred pointed to him, “I’m America. We’re together.”

Alfred stared down at the floor. “You’re mine,” Alfred paused, “And I’m yours.”

“Bullshit.” Arthur sneered, “Now let me go, America, or I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Crawl back to France or Russia?” Alfred laughed, “If you go to Ivan, I’ll-”

“Kill me?” Arthur exhaled sharply, “You say that so often, but you and I both know that you’re too weak. You’re weak, America.”

“You’re a weak, scared little boy.” Arthur continued, hands burning from Alfred’s hold, “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

Alfred huffed out of his nose before pushing Arthur down to the floor, painfully and roughly. He placed his hands, tightly, on Arthur’s wrists, pushed on either side of his head. Alfred laughed coldly as Arthur looked up at him, expression stony and calm.

_‘You come to me when you feel angry from now on.’_

“God, Arthur,” Alfred leered towards him, “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

Alfred breathed heavily onto his neck and collarbone.

“Stop it,” Arthur sneered, “America. Get off of me.”

Arthur turned his head and looked away, his back hurting from the fall and his cheek aching from the hardwood floor, shining and dark.

“You’d do anything for me.” Alfred moved towards him, “ _Anything_.”

Arthur exhaled a deep breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.

“And I’d do anything for _you_ ,” Alfred shifted to rub himself against Arthur’s hip, “I mean it.”

“Anything,” Alfred moaned, “ _Jesus_.”

Arthur’s hands were numb from Alfred’s grip. His nails bore into the skin and drew blood.

He could feel Alfred’s breath quickening against his neck, hot and moist, as he continued moving towards him, forcefully, Arthur’s cheek becoming red from the friction of his skin against the floor.

Alfred bit against his collar bone as he moaned, loudly, against his skin, jutting up against Arthur.

“Oh, _England_ ,” Alfred groaned, “God.”

His hold tightened.

Slowly, Alfred pulled away and smiled down at Arthur before reaching up to the desk and finding a letter opener, glistening in the light as he turned it in his hand. Arthur inhaled a sharp breath.

“Do you not want the others to see?” Alfred asked, pointing it at Arthur’s chest, “That you’re mine?”

Arthur breathed quickly, eyes stinging. He fixed his jaw and felt his lips tremble slightly from his shaking breath. 

“I do,” Arthur swallowed thickly, his voice was raw with the pain rushing from the first contact of the sharp tip to his bare chest. Alfred slowly lowered it. “I’m yours.” Arthur breathed as he felt his skin break. Alfred toyed with the tip, spinning it in Arthur’s chest, not deeply, but enough to spill blood.

“I’m yours.” Arthur repeated in a taught voice. Alfred withdrew, tip covered in red.

Arthur stared up at him as he watched Alfred look down to the wound, gushing in red in the centre of his chest, and touch around with it, pushing his fingers against it and creating patterns with the blood.

Alfred laughed coldly as he stared down at his hands, tainted with the red liquid. Arthur heaved in quick breaths as Alfred leaned down, tangling a hand in Arthur’s hair and pulling, hard, and kissed him, open-mouthed and hot and heavy. Arthur sighed and complied, roughly, as he felt Alfred’s breath quicken, tongue messy.

Alfred pulled away slowly, lips hovering over Arthur’s.

“I love you,” He whispered, “I love you so much it kills me.”

Arthur frowned and held Alfred’s face in his hands, roughly, before pulling him down once more, sliding his lips against his, openly, arching his body towards Alfred’s.

Alfred ran his hands up and down Arthur’s waist.

“Do you love me?” He asked Arthur against his mouth, “Do you?”

Arthur swallowed his words and pushed Alfred towards him. Alfred resisted, though, and hovered above him once more, staring deep into Arthur’s eyes.

“I love you,” Alfred repeated sternly.

Arthur drew a shaky breath.

Alfred stared down at him.

Arthur let his head fall back to the floor with a loud noise.

Alfred stood up, slowly, and then all at once, leaving Arthur to heave himself up achingly as Alfred lit a cigarette. Arthur swallowed thickly in the silence.

“This is fucked up.” Alfred smiled at Arthur, leaning against the table.

“It’s not my fault it is.”

“Yeah,” Alfred laughed, “It is.”

“See,” He walked towards Arthur, words spoken tauntingly, “ _I_ love _you_.”

“But you don’t love me.” Alfred continued, hand on Arthur’s neck again. Arthur stared at him numbly, “I don’t really care, though. As long as you’re mine, we can pretend.”

“This isn’t real,” Alfred mumbled, leaning towards Arthur, cigarette falling to the floor, “None of this is real.”

“I’m done pretending.” Arthur said sternly, “I don’t fucking care anymore. You want me to be labelled as yours,” Arthur laughed, “That’s what’s fucked up, Alfred.”

“That’s all this is to you,” Arthur continued, and Alfred dropped the hand he held on Arthur’s neck, “Love, love, love.” Arthur smiled sharply, “What’s love good for? Absolutely _nothing_.”

“You don’t know what love is,” Arthur laughed coldly, “This isn’t love. This is politics.”

Alfred flexed his jaw.

“I don’t want politics.” He said slowly, “I don’t want that.”

“What do you want, then?” Arthur asked.

“I want to love you.” Alfred replied sternly, “I’d love you every day for the rest of my life.” Arthur inhaled sharply as Alfred moved forward towards him, his chest still ached from the letter opener, “I always have.” Alfred finished and kissed him, harshly and quickly before pulling away, his arms wrapped around Arthur’s waist as he bent him down with the force of the kiss.

“I don’t want there to be anyone else but you,” Alfred continued, “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Arthur nodded weakly as Alfred bit at his neck, drawing his tongue across marks left earlier.

“Hey, say something,” Alfred tore away and gripped at Arthur’s face, forcing him to look at him blankly.

Alfred smiled at him slowly.

“You’ll ruin me,” Arthur said hoarsely, “You’ll absolutely ruin me.” Arthur tilted his head towards him. His chin and jaw hurt from Alfred’s hold.

Alfred chuckled darkly and stared down at Arthur’s scarred and blood-red tainted chest. “You’re already ruined,” Alfred said quietly, drawing his lips over Arthur’s.

Arthur sighed over Alfred’s mouth, staring up at him as Arthur tilted his head, slightly, before kissing Alfred, deeply, breath fast and warm, scratching at his shoulder and back as Alfred hoisted him up on the table.

“When are you leaving?” Alfred breathed, resting his forehead onto Arthur’s own, hair falling into his eyes.

“Thursday.” Arthur answered.

“You should stay.”

“Yeah,” Arthur breathed as Alfred touched his thighs, softly, “Yeah, okay.”

“Good,” Alfred inhaled a shaky breath, “’Cause, I thought we could go get dinner or something.”

“Dinner?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah,” Alfred frowned at him, “Dinner. Somewhere nice, maybe.”

“...I’ll check my planner when I return to the Embassy.” Arthur said hesitantly.

“Okay.”

“Right.”

Alfred shifted awkwardly.

“Your chest still hurt?” He asked after a pause.

Arthur stared down at it. There were trickles of blood along his sides and down his chest, creasing into his muscles.

“No.” Arthur replied, “I suppose not.”

“Well,” Alfred said casually, “’S not a deep wound.”

“No, it’s not.” Arthur said quickly, feeling Alfred lean against him, melting once more.

Alfred exhaled a shuddering breath.

“I’m not gonna apologise.” He said.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Arthur frowned.

“Good,” Alfred smiled emptily, “‘Cause I won’t.”

Arthur stared at him coldly.

“If I would,” Alfred said hesitantly, “I’d take you out to dinner.”

“Oh,” Arthur said calmly, “I see.”

“Yeah.” Alfred swallowed, thumbing against Arthur’s hipbones, “We could get dinner today.”

Arthur bit back a smile.

“If you want to.” Alfred said quickly, blushing, “I mean, you’re still pretty broke but I could add it to your war debt.”

“You prick.” Arthur grinned shyly, “You should be a gentleman and treat me.”

“Okay,” Alfred laughed, “As long as you don’t order like, the most expensive thing on the menu.”

Arthur nodded lazily, toying with sleek hairs on the back of Alfred’s hair.

“Let’s go tomorrow, alright?” He asked gently. Alfred smiled brightly at him before helping him off the table, hand clasped tightly in his own.

“Stay the night.” Alfred pulled Arthur towards him, embracing him warming, “Please.”

Arthur smiled against Alfred’s chest.

“I’m fairly sure you asked me that already.”

“Well, I can never be too sure with you.” Alfred laughed, “You’ll stay, won’t you?”

“Yes.” Arthur sighed, Alfred smiled at him brightly, running his fingers over the marks on Arthur’s wrist that he himself caused, “What other choice to I have?”

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh this is kinda a continuation of 'This Side of Paradise' tho not really soz


End file.
